Escape velocity
by Snowley
Summary: After events of TF Prime, Cybretron springs to life, but cybertronias themselves are far from ending their long war. Adversaries fighting across galaxy gater on their renewed planet and an uneasy stalemate ensues. Earth, now officially ackowledging existance of extaterestial menace takes action... this fic my pet project of merging TFP with IDW
1. Misconceptions and Miscarriges

_All natural and technological processes proceed in such a way that the availability of the remaining energy decreases. In all energy exchanges, if no energy enters or leaves an isolated system, the entropy of that system increases. Energy continuously flows from being concentrated to becoming dispersed, spread out, wasted and useless. New energy cannot be created and high grade energy is being destroyed._

 _Second Law of Thermodynamics_

 _So, how was the space camp? Did you learn the magic of friendship?_

 _Captein, "Romantically Apocaliptic"_

The air was filled with anticipation. Usually buzzing like a hornet's nest, now the ship went almost silent. Members of the crew, squished on the deployment deck, exchanged eager and a little bit anxious looks. Everybody held a gun in a way that seemed nonchalant, but their grip was like an iron. Some of them whispered to each other in a hushed tone, sometimes a nervous, short laugh followed.

Springer gave his soldiers a quick look through ship's surveillance cameras. Their determination made him smirk and he felt a small jab of pride. The Spear's command room was covered in subtle, reddish aura, with staff faces shining blue from the monitor screens displaying coordinates. He looked at ship's first officer, Mirage – small, lean, but stern looking bot - now with a big scowl on his face, fixated over one of them. Mirage was famous for his hunches – and now it seemed he had a bad one.

"When will we approach hailing frequency?" – Springer asked to break the silence and make him come back to reality.

The first officer didn't say anything, only raised his hand with four digits up. Immediately, Springer pushed the intercom button and spoke.

"Four clicks till absolute radio silence. If you haven't done so already, turn off your communications."

In response the crew exchanged a few words, a few laughs.

"We have visual on the Entropy." pinpointed one of the navigators. There it was, the speck in the infinite bed of cosmic matter. The display on the main screen moved and centered on their destination.

"Enable cloaking" Springer ordered, and then added: "Everything all right, Mirage?"

"Well, I don't want to be a pain in the aft, I mean we waited for this moment for three megacycles." Mirage was still looking at the screen, as if it held all the answers to the secrets of the universe. "But something is not right. I just… can't tell what."

"Oh, I know what's wrong. It's the Entropy." Another bot, sitting just behind Mirage butted in the conversation. "It was Decepticon flagship in the Clemency siege. It has proton cannons – "

"Percy…" Springer interrupted him. He liked his main physicist, mechanic, scientist, navigator and sometimes medic, especially since they were very short of engineering staff, but his rants about how the enemy's ship was the best invention since double-barreled fission cannon was getting annoying.

"It has one of a kind, temperature-based cloaking-"

"Perceptor! It's very cute that you like technology so much, but it makes it look like you don't fully comprehend that this technology _was made to kill Autobots_. Besides, I'm not talking about fragging cannons or cloaking." – Mirage finally took his optics from the screen and glared at Perceptor. Perceptor didn't look at his screen at all – he sat with his hands crossed, facing Mirage directly. He was still working tough – the little marker on his right, highly specialized optic moved frantically, giving him a mad look.

"What are you talking about, then? Maybe you just digested lower graded Energon and it gives you a bad "feeling" in your mechanisms? You should get an oil change instead of making false alarms."

"Hey!" Springer wasn't in the mood for listening to unfriendly, useless banter. "Mirage, language. Don't let him get to you so easily. Explain what you think is off or shut up. Perceptor, you also shut up, unconditionally."

"Yes, sir. I can't explain it, sir, so… yeah. It's probably just anxiety." – Mirage turned back to examining his screen, lost in thought in a second.

Perceptor said nothing and looked Springer straight in the optics. They knew he had a high opinion on a ship, and it was for a reason. He never hid his awe for its constructors, even though they were the enemy.

Entropy was a huge vessel, equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry and experimental boosters based on quantum inclusions. All you need are dark-energy density detectors to quickly find crashing black holes and macro-space bridges to send resulting gravitational wave and you can have an infinite source od energy. Sometimes he wondered why Shockwave didn't try to utilize this power, implement the quantum energy for something else than just the engines. Maybe he had some other plans, or maybe he tried but it was too dangerous. Those engines had the potential capacity of tearing a hole in time-space after all… But now it seems he'll never get a chance to find out what they can really do.

It was a waste that Springer wanted to blow up the vessel. Perceptor almost regretted that he was finally able to get intel on the internal power supply chains of the Entropy and devised a plan to intercept it. Intercept, not destroy. But Mirage got one of his "bad feelings" and persuaded Springer to plant a bomb instead. Of course it was Perceptor who had to devise that bomb, and he already flinched when he imagined beautiful warship torn to pieces by his own invention.

Springer looked back at him, his face an enigma. He was a mountain, really. Huge mech with arms so wide he had to come through doors sideways, very boxy, with nothing gentle about him, as if Primus made him specifically to be a warrior. Perceptor felt his pure, blue optics burning into his own, small, unimpressive frame and finally gave up.

"We should go." – said Springer after a while. The radio silence was approaching fast. "Mirage, with me. Blaster, you're a commanding officer till I come back."

"Aye, sir."

So Perceptor was left behind. What, did Springer think he'll jeopardize the mission to save the Entropy? Not that it didn't cross his mind, but come on…

"We need a fast-thinking Wrecker on the Spear if something goes awry." – added Springer, as if he read his mind. Perceptor's anger softened a bit. If it was someone else, Perceptor would take it for a patronizing lie, but it was his commander – and the bastard never lied.

The rest of the navigation staff looked as the two first officers – one from the legendary espionage group, the Wreckers, and one of their ship left the room and went to the deployment deck to meet with the rest of the infiltration squad.

"Um, Percy…" – the ship's pilot and interim captain, Blaster, turned to the mechanic. "Are we really going to… throw them out into space?"

"It's not throwing them out, it's more like shooting. Like if you wanted to hit a grain of sand on another planet from your blaster. While riding in a spaceship. And your blaster was air-propelled. I've made the calculations, it may sound impossible, but it's only _ridiculous_."

"Wow," - now Blaster turned his full attention to Perceptor, totally losing interest in the fragile navigations he was a substantial part of. "- I- I've heard you once sniped down a 'con while piloting an evac pod… so it's true? Do the Wreckers always work like that?"

"Well, I wasn't piloting, I was hanging upside-down from the latch. We're approaching radio silence, so it's a story for another day, Blaster."

"True."

Meanwhile Springer and Mirage were reaching their destination. The Spire wasn't big, but it still took a click to reach the deck. Springer liked this small ship – the Wreckers used to own only small, fast ships like that, to move quickly, come in hard, and then leave as soon as possible. But nowadays their role changed – they weren't a strike team no more. Ultra Magnus, the army commander under the absence of Optimus Prime, believed they were more efficient as an additional crew members for a bigger unit. It ended up as a disaster – almost one third of the original team left. Even Magnus himself left his post and was readying for visiting Earth, were Prime is supposed to be. It was a bit chaotic, and it was very much not like Magnus to make things not orderly.

It looks like he's at his wits end… and if the commander is losing, so are they.

"So, are you all right?" Springer asked again, just to interrupt his own train of thought.

"Are you trying to annoy me? I'm not a protoform, you don't have to ask me how I feel every three nanoseconds, sir."

"Sorry. And no need to be so formal. We're the same rank, I believe."

"Well, I think the assault officers are higher-ranked that intelligence ones by default, but I'm not sure. We'd need to ask Ultra Magnus, sir."

"Then I order you to stop it. It feels awkward."

"For me it's very natural." – Mirage looked up at Springer. He was so big the blue bot barely reached his elbow. – "Maybe if we get a chance to know each other better I might change my attitude. Sir."

Springer smiled but didn't reply, because they reached their destination. The door to the deployment deck opened with a hiss and they entered the cramped space filled with Autobot fighters. The doors resealed, as if cutting them off from going back. Without any word, they took the straps attached to a railing coming along the wall. The straps formed a harness at the end, and both officers put them on. It allowed them to not deploy too soon and in proper order after the outward gate got opened. Springer was jumping first, and Mirage – last. The soldiers, now squeezed between them, fiddled a bit, bracing for the incoming raise of pressure. It came quite sudden nonetheless, straining all bot's hydraulics to the limit.

"Opening the sluice." – Blaster's spoke through the intercom. – "Minus ten." He didn't count down, it was better for the team to be a little unprepared and inert while jettisoned, as Perceptor explained. Then he felt an impulse and pressed the intercom button again. "Good luck."


	2. Fight Fire With Fire

_Put another 0 in your paycheck_

 _Are you done digging your grave yet?_

 _Put another 0 in your paycheck_

 _Are you done?_

 _You're dead, already, dead, dead, already-ready_

\- _The Slaves_

Kup was second, Pyro was supposed to jump third. A little red dot signaling opening the sluice flashed and the screen rapidly retracted, unleashing almost unbearable force of high-pressurized air into deep, cold space. Springer went through almost imminently, practically evaporating into space. Then Pyro suddenly felt an uneasy freedom from the pull of air around him – he was no longer attached to the railing, the clasp opened too soon. In a flash, he could only register how, blown by unstoppable wind, he crashed into Kup and then… it all went spinning.

Pyro's first thought was to steady himself, but it would be very risky. He was spinning so fast it was really hard to catch The Spire as the point of reference and simultaneously get on the right course, while not making himself lose all the momentum. It would take a genius or an exceptional flier, and Pyro was neither. Why was he jettisoned too soon? He hoped to Primus it wasn't because he took the wrong harness or attached it poorly. If he had lived through this, he would surely be killed by Springer for being an idiot. Well, there was only one real question to ask himself now – what would Optimus Prime do?

The answer was - he wouldn't get in such situation in the first place. But if he did, he would surely reach his target, somersaulting into The Entropy and taking down a couple Decepticons before even getting on his peds.

So Pyro decided to just wait and focus on his mechanisms not getting too mashed up by his spinning internal fluids, shutting all the fuel lines down.

Then he noticed he was actually getting closer to the Decepticon ship. He put his joints closer, ready for a crash.

It wasn't so bad, all things considered. Reaching Entropy in this circumstances was, as a matter of fact, a miracle. But before he could get his bearings he realized he probably was the only one thinking it was a positive event.

He went fast, and he went hard. The impact didn't leave a scratch on the ship, but it was enough to make the right part of his armor look like it met a roller. Nothing significant got damaged, only some of his paintwork and pride.

He noticed that right next to him stood Mirage, so he waved at his superior. In response Mirage flipped him off. Pyro thought that it was a little vulgar behavior for an officer, but Mirage had all the right in the world to be mad. Then he also saw Hot Rod, who jumped before last. Roddy had an amazing ability to express two things at once – right now it was his amusement at Mirage's outburst and cold panic.

The plan was for a strike team to land on a different section of a ship, while Mirage and Hot Rod would go unnoticed in the fight and plant the bomb – Entropy was enormous and it'd ultimately become it's downfall, for there just wasn't enough Decepticon troops to cover it all. But now after all the ruckus Pyro did, it meant nothing - the'd have to be extremely lucky to not get detected.

Mirage grabbed Pyro's hand and crossed their fingers, then started to press them against back of Pyro's, expressing words. It was a form of communication excellent for radio silence and when you suspected you're being overheard. Professional hand talker's touch was so delicate it was impossible for a bystander to notice any movement and read the words. Pyro was never good at it – his big digits were good only for holding a gun. Mirage was probably one of the experts on the matter, but now he pressed so hard Pyro felt like Mirage wanted to tear his servo off.

"50 meters straight, left, second right, 100 meters straight. Speed – twenty kilometers per hour. After t plus five open comms, straight to evacuation point B."

Pyro nodded. He was part of the bomb squad now, nothing to do about it.

Meanwhile Hot Rod was making a hole in a ship's cover – he placed four of the density crystals on the surface and a hole opened between them.

They entered cautiously and turned into vehicle modes. Mirage was leading, then Hot Rod and Pyro. They stood for a while, scanning the surroundings. It seemed comepletlty clear – there was a straight corridor in front of them, making a curvy turn to the right. The lights were dimmed and the security was off – Entropy had to save energy. Pyro thought briefly about how the war dragging for so long made both sides lacking resources. The Decepticonns wouldn't admit it, but using Entropy was probably costing them way too much. The reason - when all are starving, only propaganda could make one side look better than the other, and a huge flagship was a magnificent propaganda.

There was nothing – no sound, no vibration, no field dissipation. The ship felt dead.

Unnervingly so.

Mirage started to drive slowly, and the rest followed. Then, past the curve, Mirage disappeared. Pyro stared at where Mirage was, cloaked by a one-of-a-kind reflective field – and all he could notice a small infraction of ultraviolet light that Mirage was emitting, but it could as well be him imagining things because he knew Mirage _should_ be there. Then the flicker sped up significantly – Mirage was scouting ahead. Hod Rod drove in a steady pace, and the sureness of his moves gave Pyro some comfort. The positioning dot on his HUD beeped with undisturbed frequency, moving in the direction he was destined to go.

A sudden radio silence break made them stop abruptly.

Fall back! FALL BACK! – this was the message from Mirage. A short snap of a laser rifle shot followed and burned in their audials.

"Primus, something's up." – Hod Rod was already on his peds, gun ready. "Mirage's in trouble."

"We should listen to him and find another way. The mission is more important."

"Screw the mission! No way in Pit we just leave him to be killed."

"Yeah, sure, I said we _should_ , not that there was any chance we will." – Pyro transformed and raised his gun as well. – "Stay sharp, Roddy. Slow and steady."

They run down the corridor, anticipating whatever there was before them – probably a couple of Genericons, nothing to fear. Mirage was prone to hysteria, there was no need to turn around now, so close to the target.

He wasn't responding to the pings though.

Another sharp turn, and they saw something before them they couldn't understand.

It looked like a sword, but its hilt just hoovered in the air in a vertical position. There seemed to be a small stream of Energon coming from the place where there supposed to be the rest of the blade, coming down in a disturbed, lightning-like string.

Before they could make out what were they seeing, the air under the blade flickered and it became horrifyingly clear what they were looking at – it was Mirage, still in his vehicle mode, pinned down to the floor by the sword, bleeding.

"No!" – Pyro didn't think much, just run to help his officer. It was a reflex, something as much brave as stupid. He didn't notice another blade, swinging from the side corridor on his left. Then something weird happened – in a fraction of a second he lost his balance a second time today, almost all his internal readings died out and his vision shifted, falling down.

 _What would Optimus Prime do?_

In the last spin of Pyro's brain module he saw his own decapitated body falling.

Behind it, in the distance stood Hot Rod, his eyes two pure blue spots in a darkened corridor.

 _Blessed be Primus. May he allow me a passage to the Afterspark._

He wasn't religious. Why was he thinking about this old prayer he heard once on a battlefield? He didn't remember the praying mech's name. Only that he was dead five minutes after and his Energon and bits of armor spilled on Pyro.

Vision came again for the last time. In front of him he saw someone else. A soaked blade in his hand. Turned towards Hot Rod.

 _No. Please. No._

Then nothing.


End file.
